TES VI: Battle Brand
by Shadowfang3000
Summary: "The fire inside you burnt brighter than the fire around you." - Shrugging off an eventful night, two adventurers reflect on their scars and the origins of their bond three years ago - forged in misery, desperation, and dragon fire. A follow-up to "Nothing Like Home" and "The Thinking Chair", and the sixth entry in the TES saga!
1. That Time of the Month

**Battle Brand**

 **(A/N):** IT'S HAPPENING.

The last time I posted a chapter for the ongoing TES story was July 2015, a year and a half ago. I've had the entire plot line sorted out since time immemorial, but with university taking its toll alongside me getting into games like Final Fantasy and Dark Souls, I've been struggling to dedicate time to the classic series that no one reads!

It's annoying actually, but I've been beating myself over potentially not writing this story since it's meant to be the finale to an entire character arc – a proper look into the history between Stradlater and Silent-He-Wonders, and some clear revelations at long last! While there's plenty of new characters and plot lines that future stories would introduce (And I still want to write), I would at least be satisfied with finishing TES here!

Let's stop making excuses and get to it. Time for a little bit of spelunking into the totally heterosexual origins of the bond between an ugly inhuman looking thing – and an Argonian!

 **WARNING:** Spelling errors, mildly inappropriate language, intentional awkwardness, bad jokes, me trying to write about a complex psychological relationship despite having the brain capacity of a pea pod, rusty writing, some unintentional homoerotic connotations and a write up from a single 8 hour session!

 **Chapter One: That Time of the Month**

 **"Your actions as of last night have earned you several new nicknames."**

The Argonian huffed in expertly restrained shame, rubbing at the soft underside of his snout to calm himself down. He would've screamed out loud like a lost child on the market street, maybe kicked a few things and spouted a couple of racial slurs if only he was alone – but unfortunately he was stuck in a small, low roofed room with a large, sweaty man. **"… It's a start."** he smiled, suddenly looking like a carer for the special kids. **"How many?"**

Mr. Large, Sweaty Man – a Redguard, not that it mattered – folded his arms. **"** _ **Twelve**_ **."**

He winced, yet to onlookers it probably looked more like the nervous twitch of a knife wielding psychopath itching for tribute. **"Any of note?"**

 **"Not really."** the Redguard added, shuffling a lazy one-eighty and beginning to fiddle with something out of sight. Rest assured, when a big greasy warrior type turns his back to you in a secluded bedroom at the dead of night and begins to clumsily man-handle something, it tends to make the bottom clench. **"Just twelve different spins on the words '** _ **wanker**_ **' and '** _ **git**_ **'."**

Making a face like there was a strange smell in the room and he knew it wasn't him, the Argonian shook his head and made his own oh-ninety. Unlike the soldier he shared this room with he wasn't the secretive type – the world would know that Silent-He-Wonders, self-proclaimed philosopher and qualified cynic, was taking time out of his day to fork through the shelves of a cupboard like an addict a week away from payday.

 **"Don't give me that sort of look"** the fiddler struggled to glance over his massive shoulder, the bulk of it barely concealing a smug smirk. **"Look on the bright side. At least they recognise you now."**

 **"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"** Wonders sighed, faintly seeing the mists of his breath in the cold of the cabinet.

" **If you mean laughing at how you got blind drunk, got in a fight with a pair of mercs in themed costumes, puked out all of your innards and got in a love affair between a wall and the floor over the course of a single evening, then yes"** he unravelled his headscarf, ruffling his ashen hair with the flat of his palm. **"I suppose I am."**

By the Hist, he _hated_ it when the Redguard was enjoying himself – _especially_ at his expense. There was something about the smug look that a human face naturally had that ticked him off, and with his acquaintance it magnified exponentially the longer it went on. It was frustrating to say the least, and to top it off these smug phases would often last as long as Wonders did in bed.

 _Decades, in other words._

Stradlater's smirk shrunk into a frown in mere moments, much to the Argonian's chagrin. With reluctance he grabbed at the hem of his vest, suddenly looking like an eighteen year old girl reaching fourth base – albeit if she was muscular, stubbled, versed in swordplay, and had a voice that could worry earthquake hotspots.

 **"It's that time of the month again."** Stradlater sighed, certainly not helping that metaphor as he struggled to escape from the confines of the tight cotton. You couldn't help but feel sorry for him sometimes. It was like watching a cat with biceps getting stuck in a slipper – you _wanted_ to help, but at the same time it was funnier to just sit back and watch.

The Argonian nodded, resigned to his fate. Losing his arm around a corner or two he found purchase on what he was after, balancing on the tip of his toes as he delicately navigated his way back through the gauntlet of shelves with spoils in tow. He tried to toss it in the air and snatch it all stylish like, but barely managed to catch it in a flurry of hands, elbows and whispered curses.

" **Is the door locked?"** the Yokudan huffed, flexing his bare shoulders. **"Are the curtains closed? No one's in earshot, right?"**

" **Yes."** Wonders tried again against his own advice, throwing and successfully catching the jar he'd gotten the cupboard. **"Yes."** he paced forward, continuing to answer. **"No, I rounded up some patrons to watch and point fingers."**

That comment earned him a judging look, the Redguard rolling up his vest and tossing it onto the rapidly building pile of clothing on the poorly treated floorboards. He slowly sat himself down on the side of his bed, the flimsy frame creaking with the strain of his weight. **"Make sure it's locked, this isn't an open showing."**

Theatrically prancing to the door he tugged at the handle, being met by stiff resistance as expected. Wonders leant against it smugly, pointing at it with his thumb with an expression best described as " _incredibly dickish_ ".

Stradlater didn't even spare a glance. **"It's a push."**

With comical timing the door flew open, throwing the magician flat onto his back in the empty corridor of the _Bannered Mare_ 's top floor. For being such a popular tavern and inn in the busiest hold of all of Skyrim, the building was often sparsely populated at night. Save for the muffled voices of the owners downstairs and the odd snore or clink of drinks, the mewl of the dying hearthfire was the only sound that could be heard.

 _Well, that and the dramatic flopping and flailing of a beached Argonian._

His point made, Wonders crawled flat on his belly back through the doorway, counting the splinters he got on his way. **"By the** _ **Hist**_ **, is there anything else?"** he pulled out the key from one of many non-descript pouches on his belt, stumbling to his feet and roughly locking the door. Practically body slamming it to make sure it was sealed, he turned and mirrored Stradlater's look of mild disinterest. **"Should I warm you some milk, maybe light some scented candles? I could pull out a harp and play something to set the mood if it pleases you."**

"… **Some milk would be nice act-"**

Wonders held up a claw, **"I hate you** _ **less**_ **when you're not talking, Redguard."**

The Redguard nodded, eager to get to the point. **"Go on then."** he muttered lowly, fidgeting on the spot. **"Let's get this over with."**

Stradlater stared at the wall with an expression as blank as his fashion sense, doing his best to tune out and ignore what was about to happen. The bed frame howled in protest and alarm as the Argonian clambered atop it, grabbing the warrior's shoulders to keep his balance.

It was " _that time of the month_ " again, and this was the procedure they often had to struggle through. Stradlater's scorched and scarred skin was a constant source of irritation for them both, the rough and almost patch-work like flesh often flaring with discomfort and pain. It was a complication that had come up the day that he was branded – it needed to be treated to stop any sort of corruption or infection from taking root.

Unfortunately the only way to sort this out was through alchemical ointments, which meant that it was the task of Silent-He-Wonders to essentially grease the large Redguard up. You'd think that the homoerotic connotations of rubbing a shirtless man with lubricant would die down after three years – they were _adults_ after all – but it just got worse and _worse._

Now there were two approaches that you could take to this sort of scenario. The mature option would be Stradlater's method, which was to deal with the awkwardness of the situation by simply avoiding conversation and staying silent. In direct contrast the less-than-mature option would be to take the opposite approach and constantly say what's on your mind, which was the approach the the Argonian magician often took.

 _They were a match made in heaven._

 _Or Sovngarde, or whatever the afterlife was these days. It was hard to keep track._

" **It's funny."** Wonders said.

The Redguard grunted. It probably meant " _hmm_?", so he continued.

" **Not too long ago you probably** _ **wanted**_ **to get lubed up by an Argonian in this tavern, Redguard."**

 _This really wasn't the best time._

Wonders was thinking about their first encounter with Soft-Her-Scales, the busty Argonian barmaid of the _Bannered Mare_ who they'd both had a bit of a fuss over quite some time ago. He was beginning to wonder if it would be easier to stomach this whole body massage business if he pretended he was oiling _her_ up instead.

He quickly realised that doing that would involve imagining the Redguard with a pair of stonking great breasts, and despite his bravery that was a level of horror even _he_ wasn't prepared to handle.

 **"You know, no one would hear you scream up here and I have access to several sharp things in the immediate vicinity."** Stradlater responded, looking back at the Argonian with his blind, milky-white eye. That was another complication from that fateful day – he'd have to check on it in a bit too. **"Just a** _ **friendly**_ **reminder."**

 **"Didn't want to hear** _ **'no one would hear you scream**_ **' from a half naked man covered in lubricant in the dead of night with a voice like a casanova after downing a pub's worth of wine and pipe weed."** Wonders crooked his neck awkwardly, the height difference between the two rapidly getting him sore. He was beginning to feel a bit stiff in his legs and spine – and _nowhere else,_ honest. **"Pretty sure my mother told me to avoid those types."**

Sighing, Stradlater shook his head. **"Just look at me, stuck in the backend of a bar with a reptile that still sucks his thumb in bed, a thousand miles from home with my shirt off as he rubs my back with ointment."** he grumbled, shuddering slightly as a drop of the ointment snaked down his spine. Just like the best medicine tasting bad, the slimy stuff gave his skin a dull sting – but that sensation subsided in time, and it kept the rot under control. Frankly, it was practically embalming fluid in all but name. **"Don't get me wrong, but ask me about my future three years ago and I'd have a** _ **slightly**_ **different idea for where I'd be."**

Wonders mindlessly kneaded the skin of the Redguard's lower back, only to suddenly come to a halt. He squinted in thought; the textbook scholarly expression. **"… Wouldn't you be in the ocean if you went a thousand miles from Sentinel?"**

" **It's rounded up."** he muttered, the waters of wit drier than his skin, which in retrospect was pretty wet at the moment what with the current course of events, so that metaphor was worth ignoring. He felt a jab dangerously close to uncharted territory. **"… Did you just** _ **pinch**_ **me?"**

To be honest his claws were in desperate need of trimming, and he'd been meaning to get around to it. He pulled out some sarcasm from his quiver as he often did, **"I felt a bit playful."** he sighed dreamily, **"Isn't this** _ **romantic**_ **?"**

 **"Don't say that, I'm shirtless and you're rubbing me with ointment!"**

Wonders blinked, his fingers feeling awkward. **"Okay, I'll admit."** he admitted, as you'd probably infer. **"That was a** _ **little**_ **bit gay, even for me."**

" **Admitting it is the first part."** Stradlater snarked back at him, his head hanging loose. Soon enough he felt the faintest of pressure on his back, like a goat was trying to knock him over in a fit of rage – a goat without legs. **"… Are you trying to push me now?"**

Flushing with exertion and effort, the magician pulled back and then threw himself at the bulky mass of muscle, bone and smugness once again. He let out a squeak as he fruitlessly pushed, trying to nudge the Yokudan forward a bit so he could reach his neck a tad easier. Forfeiting manliness points, he barely managed to save himself from saying " _bend over_ ", **"Are you going to help me here or what?"** he gasped like an aquatic reptilian out of water, which in some ways he was. **"You're about as useful as a fat cat in a burglary."**

Puffing and huffing, he obliged and hunched his shoulders as if he was prepping to give the lizard a piggyback in the spur of the moment. **"I can't believe I'm being lectured by a man who is physically incapable of using straws."**

That was a step too far in Wonders' opinion, insulting his very honour to the core. He slapped the man's back lightly, leaving a faint hand-shaped mark through the film of ointment and goop. **"** _ **Oi**_ **."** he growled, leaning close in a way that was supposed to be threatening. **"I can blow** _ **bubbles**_ **."**

 _Excellent._

 _Top notch._

The conversation sort of dried up at that point, the featureless room combined with the whole lubing thing being enough to limit the choice of topics. They could go into more detail about the alcoholic escapades of the Argonian the night before, but that would probably be better to exploit in a more social scenario for maximum blackmailing potential.

Stradlater was shivering again, the winter's bite combined with the ointment having its impact on a man whose constitution was built for warmer and drier climates. He was certainly gonna feel all gunky for the rest of the night, his charred skin reluctant to take it all in. Having your body refuse to absorb what it needs was quite the nuisance to say the least, and it forced the scaly nurse on duty to gradually work the ointments in manually. Wonders' hands were getting sore to say the least, his poorly manicured yet discomfortingly girly hands not being cut out for this sort of rough work.

 **"Remember that time when I ran in screaming with the flame cloak?"** he quipped, hoping to get something started. **"You thought I was on fire?"**

 **"That was funny the first ten times. The eleventh?"** the Redguard muttered dryly, his charisma drained from his meeting with Gath gro-Ushar and his wife the night before. **"Not so much."** he was content with the silence to be honest, and he couldn't help but shut topics down even though they would help keep Wonders comfortable. He'd have to apologise about that at some point.

This was starting to get a bit painful for the Argonian's brain, the sheer monotony of the task at hand taking its toll on a mind suited for finer things. It was a shame really, but he was the only person in the whole of Tamriel who'd actually be able to do this. He could take the sight of Stradlater's shrivelled flesh with only a mild sense of nausea – he couldn't turn any more green after all.

It was disheartening how the patterns of his skin changed, transitioning from parts that weren't scarred to corrupted and ashen portions. In some ways it almost reminded him of some of the more exotic palettes you'd find in the natives of Black Marsh. You'd go from the light chocolate brown of his untarnished tissue, through a mix of dull grey and brown sores, to flaky and pitch black impurities as dark as the finest ebony.

 _It was most visible along the ribs._

 _Black, grey, brown. Brown, grey, black._

 _Sort of like a half-cooked jacket potato._

He hated any food that came from the earth, but potatoes had always been on the top of his list. They came from the _Deadly Nightshade_ family of plants you know, which was a bit of trivia that could do you wonders in a bar quiz. Who'd willingly eat something with " _Deadly_ " and " _Nightshade_ " in the name? That'd be like trusting an Altmeri necromancer called " _Backstabbio_ ".

Sometimes he wondered where his aversion to vegetables came from, what with his being an Argonian and all that. He was pretty sure that the whole Hist thing preached being one with nature and hugging trees and mangroves or something like that, although to be fair if that meant less meat and more celery he'd renounce the faith faster than you could say " _You start running so I can stab you in the back"_.

 _Not that he was the most pious Saxhleel around._

 _He couldn't help it – his sex appeal was a sin._

 **"Don't do that."** a gravelly voice said.

Wonders was roughly jogged out of his thoughts, returning to his work as if nothing had happened. **"Do what?"**

 **"** _ **That**_ **."** Stradlater stressed, as if he was trying to point with his voice alone.

He was talking in circles, Wonders thought. **"** _ **What**_ **?"**

 **"That, hum."** The Redguard specified **"It's distracting me."**

Had he been humming? He did one of those dry laughs that sound more like you've just been punched in the gut, **"Distracting you from what, twiddling your thumbs? Molting?"**

After a moment of reflection the nomad couldn't help but ask. **"Do Argonians molt?"** he quizzed. There was an awkward pause with an embarrassed air about it, as if he'd just asked a very private and personal question. The Redguard sighed for what must've been the eleventh time that evening. " **Just stop it."**

 **"Okay, okay."** the masseuse relented, continuing his morbid massage. Soon enough he began to whistle, which was quite the accomplishment what with his lack of lips or cheeks.

" **What did I just say?"** Stradlater fumed, rocking on his numb backside.

" **You said to stop humming."** the mage pointed out, his brow furrowed. **"What, I can't whistle either?"**

" **Yes."** Stradlater revealed, declaring his ultimatum. **"Don't hum, don't whistle, don't make any noise."**

Wonders flexed his fingers, licking his teeth. **"Fine, will do."**

The diplomatic agreement between them lasted a few minutes, yet surprisingly it was the bloke who made it that broke it. The Redguard looked back, either the bed or his bones creaking. **"… Are you okay, Argonian?"**

He puffed irritably, rubbing his snout like a human would rub his temples. **"Right, so just to clarify here you don't want me to make noise** _ **or**_ **be quiet."** Wonders complained, eager to smash the democratic system and its hypocritical law systems. **"What do you want from me?"**

Neither of them wanted to do this. _Both_ of them wanted it to end. Stradlater turned back, his elbows on his knees. **"Just… Get this over with, will you?"**

The kneeling position that Wonders had settled on must've taken its toll, his numb legs refusing to listen to his orders. **"… I've gone limp."** he mumbled to himself.

" **You should see a cleric about that, he'll give you some pills."**

" **Make yourself useful and turn around."** Wonders patted his shoulder, splattering it with a generous amount of congealed slime that had glued to his hand like a stray booger. Muttering something to himself that probably involved a few rude words, Stradlater took Wonders' place and knelt atop the bed frame. Of course this meant that the short and bony magician had to get on his feet to compensate, his legs feeling like half done jelly that'd been chewed on and spat out by a tot.

None of this effort would make his scars better. If anything it would just make it a little less worse, helping him cope with the aggravation of constant aches and pains. He'd been the peak of physical fitness in the old days, well-versed with sword and board and with both the speed and strength needed to exploit the talent to its fullest potential. Stradlater had tried his damndest to adapt, but no amount of training or rehabilitation could return him to his former glory – he was slower, weaker, and had nowhere near the flexibility that a swordsman would have liked.

It was no surprise when Wonders returned to humming, yet so deep in thought the Redguard heard little more than a faint buzz through the haze. For some strange reason he found himself thinking about Gath gro-Ushar and Soft-Her-Scales once more, his conversations with the two the night before having helped him reflect on his own experiences. He hoped that their talks had helped them settle their problems, and that the future was a little brighter for the pair.

Faelindra was the next character that popped up in his mind's eye, no doubt recovering from a brutal hangover after a night of drinking. What was she up to now? What was on her mind? By Oblivion, what had she and Wonders even talked about during their little binge?

Part of him wanted to speak to her alone at some point. There was something he wanted to speak to her about concerning their past and present, but for some strange reason he couldn't quite put his finger on _what_. Maybe he'd work it all out when he got there? He'd gotten some confidence from helping the Orc and Argonian couple of the _Blueview_ with their personal problems, so maybe he had the knowhow to sort out the bad blood between him and the Bosmeri Housecarl?

 _Just how much did their time together eat at her?_

 _He had nothing to lose._

Looking Wonders in the eyes as he rubbed oil across his chest was a bit too homoerotic for his pallet, so he stared at the ceiling. Conveniently this helped Wonders with his job, giving him a better angle to work from. Stradlater had a question on his tongue that he didn't quite understand the purpose of, yet he let it loose regardless. **"Ever heard the phrase** _ **'live every day like it was your last'**_ **, Argonian?"**

" **If I lived every day like it was my last this city would be out of butter and virgins within a week."** he said instantaneously, almost as if it was a reflexive response. **"They'd never catch me. But yes, of course.** _ **Obviously**_ **. What sort of question is that?"**

It was a fair retort, to which the warrior had neither a quip nor a regular answer to fight back with. He wasn't too sure what he was on about to be honest. He felt as if he had questions that needed answering, yet had no clue what the questions were to begin with. Was he brooding or something? He hadn't even realised, it sort of just slipped out.

 _He was starting to sound like a mopey teenager again._

 _Like he did back then, in the Temple, on a rainy day._

" **Thanks for the idle conversation, Redguard.** _ **Really**_ **."** Wonders sneered irritably, feeling increasingly out of place like a spider in a bath. He needed a wall to bounce off of to pass the time, and Stradlater was doing poorly enough to make an _actual_ wall a better alternative. He clicked his tongue, which sounded much grander with a tongue as long as his. **"Appreciate the effort."**

No response.

Not for a long while.

The wanderer suddenly replied, saying **"I'm sorry."**

 _It always came back to apologies._

 _Closing the door and locking yourself in won't solve anything._

The magician didn't look up from his work, analysing the puzzle that was the tone of the Redguard's scorched skin. It was a two to one ratio of marked flesh to virgin – more than half of him had been consumed by the flames. Nords tend to say that scars on the outside leave the inside unharmed or even emboldened – what a complete load of _bollocks_ from a nation of thick headed arse wipes, to put it gently. **"I know how it is."**

His self-pity flared up once again. No matter how hard he tried, he could never escape the facts entirely. How could _anyone_ move on from something like that, when they bore reminders of it on both their bodies and souls? **"I'm sorry."**

" **Stop saying that."** Wonders growled, the puzzle before him forever baffling – grey, brown, black. Brown, black, grey. **"Listen, the only times we have to apologise in this** _ **acquaintanceship**_ **is when you intentionally punch me, and that's only happened once or twice in the past three years so it's okay."**

" _ **Acquaintanceship**_ **?"** Stradlater blinked, **"Is that even a word?"**

" **It is now."** the magician declared. **"It's in my dictionary. The** _ **Wonders**_ _ **Dictionary**_ **, written by Silent-He-Wonders for Argonians only. It's _wonderful_."**

The Redguard was still cold, but he was too deep in self-pity to be bothered by it. His shoulders heaved, his lungs heavy with remorse. **"… I said a lot of things I didn't mean back then."**

" **You've told me this before. You had your reasons."** he ignored the puzzle for the moment, convinced that it couldn't be solved on the spot. Another handful of ointment, and he was back to work - like a barber talking about the local happenings. **"We had all of our emotional feely stuff back then, and that's enough. It's done now. It's buried."** Wonders added an addendum of empty bravado, **"I have a** _ **reputation**_ **to maintain here, Redguard."**

 _Brown, grey, black._

 _Grey, grey, grey._

The no-man's-land of silence was pushed through head-on, as Stradlater reflected on the day. **"It was** _ **Hjaalmarch**_ **, wasn't it? Early winter?"**

The Argonian's nostril twitched in response. The past can change people, no matter who they are. Perhaps it was good to remember our roots from time to time, even if it hurt?

 _Of course it was._

 _Hadn't he learnt anything from last night's binging?_

 _"It's easier to fail with someone else to share the weight."_

" **South** _ **Morthal**_ **, in the marsh and tree lines. Last Fredas of summer, grey skies."** he corrected, grabbing his acquaintance's screwed up vest and drying his hands with it much to the Redguard's chagrin. He still had both of his eyes – of _course_ he remembered the details. **"My robe was blue."**

" **South** _ **Morthal**_ **. That's where it happened?"**

Wonders growled lowly. It almost sounded like an animalistic purr, his eyes dimming as if he was looking within himself for the answers to all his ills.

Maybe that was a smidgen too dramatic?

" **That's where it happened."**

 _Where he earned his battle brand._

X

 _(A/N): Hamfisted is what this is!_

 _It's very peculiar writing for TES again in general, and it doesn't help that my last fic was five months ago on top of that! While I feel I got the general point across, it was rather sloppily handled in an attempt to compensate for how poorly communicated it was in the past. On top of that this chapter's sort of a build up to the main event, so not much actually happened beyond the set up._

 _Let's hope this is worth it. The next two chapters are fundamental to character building and plot in my head, with a two part flashback to three years in the past! I hope for the love of god I can pull it off in earnest!_

… _And that skin puzzle metaphor was totally subtle wasn't it? Brown for when he was unscarred and innocent, black for his darkness and the angst he's fighting, and grey for where he tries to straddle? much subtle, wow._


	2. Overtime

**(A/N):** Here we are! It's time at the bar, and I'm not ready in the slightest!

In the last chapter, we were stuck sitting through the monthly maintenance that someone with as many scars and burns as Stradlater has needs to go through to keep themselves fresh and tasty. Filling the awkward process of being oiled up by a racist pervert dinosaur man with a penchant for firing lightning bolts out of his fingers with banter, the conversation drifted towards a darker path.

Now the pair of wanderers reflect on the very event that cemented their partnership, and gave the Redguard the battle brand he continues to be burdened by three years later…

 **WARNING** : Spelling errors, mildly inappropriate language, bad jokes, a story set entirely in flashback form, me trying to write a complex psychological relationship despite having the brain capacity of half a pea pod, rusty writing, some unintentional homoerotic connotations and an attempt at writing a violent and bloody battle without being cringy!

 **Chapter Two: Overtime**

He'd never quite gotten the hang of Skyrim's rocky terrain.

It was already a task and a half to keep yourself moving whilst festooned in layers upon layers of cast plate armour, yet in spite of his years in the northern realm of Tamriel the Redguard swordsman had never truly adapted to its contours. The flats of his feet were accustomed to the dense sands of Hammerfell's endless deserts, where even if there _was_ a hill in your way it wasn't uncommon for it to suddenly disappear in the wind within an hour.

The incline of the green and brown highlands were taking their toll on his back, strenuous sweat pooling in his boots ever so subtly. It was a challenge to travel these lands lightly, let alone in a full set of armour from head to toe. His was a patchwork set, Orichalcum in some places and Nordic Iron in others, with a touch of his native steel here and there.

Constant maintenance had transformed the once elegant piece of art to a testament of a warrior's struggles, full of dents and imperfections. You could probably debate over whether or not what he wore was even the same set of armour he began with – so little of the original truly remained.

With the help of his hands he continued to scale, moving like a werewolf or some other manbeast between the crags and crannies. Chilled air filled his lungs as he climbed, crisp and satisfying for his heaving lungs. Clawing through a thin layer of foliage he at last reached the summit, tugging the strap of his shield over his shoulder and squeezing the familiar hilt of his trusty blade at his hip.

From this distant vantage point he could see through the shroud of the _Hjaalmarch_ 's dense treeline, the vast expanse of the Nordic lowlands miles under him a wonder to behold. As a boy or a man in the making he'd sometimes stare across the endless expanse of the deserts flats, going off for eternity across the horizon. Who could've imagined that a land so very different could have been so close to home?

The Redguard let his breath gradually return to him, flexing his left shoulder that carried the weight of his shield like a trader's strung up satchel. The clouds drifted daintily, minding their own business as was their usual routine. In some ways, the trials of this land had _literally_ left him breathless.

 _What a profoundly beautiful place._

 **"What an absolute _pig-sty_ of a dump."** his companion suddenly announced, breaking his vow of silence after an hour of bliss. That had to be a new record. A pair of green hands scrambled at the grass for purchase, his feet frantically kicking and scraping at the incline for grip. **"People honestly live here?"**

It would've been satisfying to sit there and watch for a few moments, but his green friend already had enough things to complain about. Kneeling at the edge the Redguard clasped his colleague's collar with a vise like grip and heaved him up in a complete and total shambles. He flopped flat on his back, gasping like a beached fish who'd just had his favourite novel spoiled.

 **"That's the last hill."** the Redguard noted, remaining crouched alongside his acquaintance. **"It's downhill from here, give or take. At least that's what the map said."**

The Argonian mage made a low hissing noise, one that you wouldn't want to hear so far away from civilisation. **"Why couldn't we just go _around_ , Redguard?"**

 **"This was a shortcut."** he defended, trying to flex his spine without drawing too much attention to himself. **"No one goes this way."**

The magician fumed, swatting at his robes all gentry like. **"I can't help but wonder _why_ no one goes this way."** he snarled, eventually shifting his focus to the state of his black or brown talons. They were chipped, more so than usual. **"Look at my hands. I had _lovely_ hands!"**

They looked no different to the Redguard, but then the magically inclined seemed to have an affinity for fashion, beauty, and eating anything that would sound cool in an alchemical recipe to see what happens. You had to give credit to the man who had the brains and brawn to eat a _Sabrecat's Tooth_ without any milk for the sake of alchemical science.

It was safe to say that the whinging lizard was shagged out from the ascent, the wind having been knocked out of him in spite of his light luggage. He was a spindly and bony specimen, the bagginess of his trousers and overcloak compensating for his frightful lack of bulk. The only muscle he had was in his right arm, that's for sure.

The warrior pulled a waterskin from his belt and handed it over with a sloshing sound, wisely suggesting that he **"Rest up for a few minutes."**

 _Not that he needed to give that advice._

His right arm – his _favourite_ arm – reached out and snatched the waterskin from the man's loose grip, pulling off the cap with his front teeth and swigging back the lot. The coldblooded creature glugged and glugged for an uncomfortably long time, until pulling back with loud gasp of satisfaction. Content for the moment he plugged it before cordially slapping it against the Redguard's chestplate with a dull clunk, flopping back to the ground like an unruly child.

Raised eyebrows hidden behind the visor of his steel helmet, the knight experimentally uncorked the waterskin with misplaced optimism. The entire thing had been drained to a tee, right down to the nooks – no doubt the Argonian's darting tongue had gone on a total rampage that would give even the lewdest teenage girl something to blush about.

Men of the desert didn't need half the water the average person needed. Disappointed nonetheless, he returned the waterskin to his belt. He'd need to remember to refill it at the next opportunity. As a native of _Black Marsh_ where moisture was commonplace, the magician had claimed that his people required _double_ the amount of water a Nord or Imperial needed to keep themselves going. To be fair it was probably complete bollocks; a naked lie to skive a few free pints off of kind and unsuspecting bartenders from the less informed villages of Skyrim.

 _Oh, it was total bollocks._

 _Still, it worked didn't it?_

Taking a few notes from his own book, namely " _rest up for a few minutes_ ", the Redguard carefully lowered himself down and leant against a birch tree for support, the thin trunk moving slightly to accommodate his mass. As comfortable as he could be he turned to watch the lowlands with a childish glee, fascinated by the sights before him.

After a vague number of minutes Wonders lifted his head, scratching his glistening snout and furrowing his brow with anger. It was hard to tell whether or not an Argonian was angry actually, it could've been one of several emotions that he wore on his face.

 **" _Redguard_."** he called, pulling with his neck and rising to a seated position. **"Are you sure you know the way?"**

He hated being called " _Redguard_ ", it felt so impersonal. He'd told the lizard a thousand times that he _had_ a name, even if it wasn't one he'd picked out for himself. Everyone else called him _Stradlater_ , so what was the Argonian's excuse? **"I'm a lot more sure than I was four hours ago, Silent."** Stradlater huffed, his armour creaking in deliberation. **"The city's through these trees, in the marshes."**

 **"Right."** the magician spoke with the tone you tended to hear from exasperated parents who just wanted their kids to shut up for a moment. **"Okay. Yep. Uh-huh. Got it."**

Of course Stradlater continued, **"I'm no tracker or anything, but it's simple enough."** he wasn't quite sure why he tagged that extra bit on really. In truth his knowledge of the area was pretty lacking, but it seemed self-explanatory for the most part. Skyrim was a big place for sure, but holds and civilisation tended to stand out from the wilds like a sore pinkie. The Redguard watched the skies carefully, feeling a shudder of apprehension run down his spine – or a lukewarm bead of sweat from earlier, he wasn't quite sure. **"… Hey, Silent."**

 **"I wasn't even talking that time!"** his grumpy companion yapped, sneering in offence. **"Silent? _Pah_."**

 **"Your _name_ is Silent!" ** he pointed out. _Silent-He-Wonders_ to be exact, although that was an approximation for non-Argonians to use. Actual Saxhleel names tended to wreck the vocal chords of men and mer beyond repair, which was something the magician never neglected to point out – the superiority of his people's tongue and voice boxes to " _lesser_ " races that is. Stradlater got to the point, **"We should get a move on, _Silent_. The skies are getting grey, _Silent_."**

Silent mumbled something to himself like a bitter old coot, throwing himself to his feet and dusting off his rear **. "This bounty had better be worth it."** he moaned, flexing his tail like this was his morning stretch. **"They'll skimp on it. They always do."**

Not even gracing such wise observations with a response, the pair were back to walking. Silent seemed to pick up his pace, neither encumbered by armour nor cautious like his colleague. The Redguard in particular was anxious about the descent. One small mistake would likely snowball into disaster, the acceleration of the slope throwing them into a painful roll that would be impossible to recover from.

On one hand it would get them to the bottom in record time.

 _On the other, they'd probably break enough legs to satisfy any local theatre productions._

Testing waters, Stradlater asked **"Have you done this sort of work before then, Silent?"**

 **"Don't call me that."** he muttered, his distance increasing. Maybe this sort of mobility was innate to the people of the marshes? It would be abnormal for someone from _Winterhold_ or some other mage's college to be able to move this swiftly. Catching himself on a tree and straddling it like a working girl, Silent took one glance back. **"… And _yes_. I'll have you know that I was going around head hunting and hunting heads back when your dumps looked like _mustard_."**

 **"Aren't we the same age?"** the armoured man pointed out. There was a silence, the kind indeterminate but probably not a good one. **"Anyway,"** Stradlater said, **"that's a relief I suppose. We made a decent combination out there."**

The pair had only met eachother a few days earlier in the _Moorside Inn_ of _Morthal_ , which in spite of its name didn't seem to actually be by the side of any blatant moors. The both of them had gone for the same bounty poster on the tavern's otherwise empty billboard, and other a vicious tugging duel and exchange of unspeakable insults, they'd settled – eventually – on halving the reapings between them.

Silent-He-Wonders had been considering his options since their quest had been completed. He supposed that a big burly meat shield would probably come in handy in the long run, especially if said meat shield also had a sharp sword that he could poke people with. It was a trick of the trade, but half of a magician's job was to simply put on a stellar lightshow – in the end they did the exact same thing as everyone else in battle, it just looked a lot cooler.

Suddenly Stradlater stumbled, his foot snagging on a stray root from a wonky tree. With lightning reflexes he caught himself on a trunk, taking a swift intake of air in relief. Regaining both his balance and composure, he looked towards the Argonian – who in turn returned his look with a deep stare, squinting at him as if undressing the Redguard with his mind. He couldn't help but wonder why the first metaphor that he thought of involved being undressed by a coldblooded magician in the great outdoors, but he quickly moved on before he discovered anything unsightly. **"Silent?"** he tried, before shifting it around for a change, **"Wonders?"**

Eventually Wonders found his voice. **"You _sure_ you're a Redguard?"** he pressed, having assumed a rather stylish arms-folded pose against his tree. All he needed now was a band of merry men and a pair of scandalous tights that accentuated the arse. **"You look a bit… _Off_."**

 _This again._

 **"Imperial on my father's side."** Stradlater carefully manoeuvred himself, trying to put himself back on track. The descent would get easier the further down they went, if you looked at it logically. **"I think. That's what they told me at least."**

He noted the vague use of the word " _they_ ", but decided not to push it for the moment. Shuddering in such an over the top manner that it simply couldn't be fake, Wonders snarled with distaste. **"With that sort of pedigree, no wonder."** he sighed mournfully, **"My condolences."**

The apparently half-Redguard blinked, **"What?"** he said in confusion, finding an awkward but consistent gait as he steadily kept moving. **"What do you mean?"**

 **"Well, you know."** Wonders mumbled, unhelpfully. **"Your _pedigree_? Not gonna get _much"_ ** he punctuated the word with a pump of his fist, colloquially known as the gesture for poon, **"with _pedigree_ like that, aren't you?" **

**"Stop saying that word."** Stradlater urged, finding it increasingly weird. Gods forbid, was he all for ethnic purity like some Thalmor weirdo or something? **"What, so you don't get half Argonian, half Nord babies or anything like that?"**

 **"Urgh, _imagine_ that."** the eugenics aficionado retched with genuine disgust, like he'd just swallowed an eyelash or seen his bank statement for the month. **"Imagine all the _hair_."**

He almost did, but thankfully he saved himself. The warrior held onto a low branch and used it for balance as he walked, **"Just keep an eye on your footing."** he reminded, the Argonian continuing to outpace him. So much for spindly and bony. **"If you trip on this incline you won't be able to stop yourself."**

 **"Let that be your excuse, and I'll make mine."** Wonders snarked, feeling right chuffed for such an ingenious comment. A pity that he wasn't quite sure what it meant. He continued to skip at a decent pace, the soles of his boots more gripping than a particularly well written horror story.

Nords, Imperials, Redguards and Bretons. Silent-He-Wonders had never really understood the concept of the different races of men. To him in the grand scheme of things they all looked roughly the same, as did all the types of Mer – with the exception of Orcs, but then you could forgive him for that. Was that racist of him?

Probably.

But then again, who really cares?

The slant of the path was beginning to ease, the Argonian's stride increasing as the slope dropped lower and lower. Even the treeline began to thin, the thick thickets at last behind him as civilisation gradually began to come closer.

Increasingly further back, Stradlater's hands were full trying to keep all of his gear on his person whilst simultaneously holding onto trees to keep himself from stumbling. It was a tad bit too late to think this, but maybe – just _maybe_ – this shortcut was a bad idea. He could probably use a bit of help, as embarrassing as it was. **"Wonders!"** he called out, standing still and finding his balance.

No answer.

 **"Wonders?"** he repeated, but to no avail. How far ahead was the Argonian anyway? Grudgingly he cut his impromptu break short and continued his clumsy advance. What on Nirn was wrong with that mage anyway? Had something happened to him in his youth that had turned him into a complete and utter loony? There was something off putting about him, and while he'd always known it was there it hadn't truly stood out until just now.

 _Pedigree, really?_

Thankfully the path began to ease, the dense trees having masked this fact with frightening efficiency. Bringing his stride up to a very easy jog, Stradlater moved forward and eventually caught up with the robed lizard. His momentum hadn't slowed completely by the time he reached him, and he bumped into Wonders' back lightly.

 **"Sorry Wonders."** he sighed, patting his shoulder. The lizard didn't react in the slightest, his body stiff and his gaze fixed on the sky. Leaning back with a click of bone and a whine of iron, Stradlater followed his eyes and too froze completely still. **"... Is that what I think it is?"**

 **"Depends on what you think it is."** Wonders replied in monotone, somehow managing to say this without even moving his mouth. His face was locked in a state of perpetual confusion, like someone had told him a rude joke and he wasn't sure whether or not he should be amused by it or deeply offended.

Whatever it was it was _big_ , and it was getting bigger and bigger. Either it was growing exponentially or it was coming closer, and either choice seemed to be suboptimal. Clad in a thick scale mail, its tail as long as its wings were wide, it descended upon the _Hjaalmarch_ without an audience to receive it. It had a faint but noticeable green tint to its rough hide – perhaps it and Wonders were long lost cousins? The Redguard didn't take his eyes off it, simultaneously mesmerised and horrified by the beast. Suddenly remembering that he was in the middle of a conversation, he muttered **"You tell me, then I'll tell you."**

 **"Okay."** the mage said, and that was all he said for a while. Its talons were large enough to put _him_ to shame, its maw lined with row after row of jagged teeth like the broken glass of a wine bottle in a bar room brawl. What was the point of having so many lines of teeth anyway? To chew something on its way down?

He thought about it for a moment.

 _Yeah, that was probably the exact reason why._

 _Something, or someone._

He rolled his tongue for a few moments, his throat having dried even after he'd drained the waterskin not too long ago. His hands clutched at his belt, wringing at it brutally. **"I think that's a _dragon_."**

Stradlater went over the facts that had been presented to them, and scientifically deduced that in all probability this massive winged creature with more teeth than all of the Septim Dynasty combined that had just landed in the _Hjaalmarch_ and was currently roasting a herd of goats with a stream of fire from its gob, was indeed a dragon. **"I agree."** the Redguard concurred, taking a moment to lift his visor just in case he was mistaken. Nope, the dragon was still there. The goats weren't though, not that it particularly mattered but it was a detail nonetheless. **"That _is_ a dragon, yes."**

Neither of them made to move or even talk, the pair simply watching in bafflement as it continued to ravage the country. Suddenly it left off a shrill roar to the skies, as if warning the whole of Tamriel that it had arrived from the pits of Oblivion itself and was here to collect.

There were a million questions that needed answering, but it wasn't like either of them had any answers between them. The hinges of Stradlater's visor creaked in the wind, his hand still holding it open. Wonders spoke quietly, **"... Or maybe it's a _Wyvern_?"**

 **"A Wyvern?"** Stradlater echoed, the visor squeaking.

 **"Yeah. It's got the… T-The…"** reality finally began to kick in, the magician realising that they had found themselves trapped between sharp jaws and a rockface. **"By the _Hist,_ that's a bloody freakin' _dragon_ Redguard!" ** he whimpered, his voice cracking stupidly. **"Teeth! Fire! Wings!"**

The warrior managed to hold on for a few seconds longer than the Argonian, although he'd arrived late so it wasn't something he could really brag about. **"I know, I _know_!"** Stradlater snarled, suddenly grabbing his companion and pulling him to the ground for cover within the dewy grass.

 **"You said this was the way to _Morthal_!" ** Wonders complained, speaking in that high pitched sort of whisper that was a lot louder than your normal tone of voice. He parted the grass with his fingers, staring across the fields at the monstrosity. **"There wasn't a dragon here before!"**

Dragons had been dead for generations, or so people often said – slain to the last by Tiber Septim or something along those lines. Of _course_ there hadn't been a dragon here. But there was now, and this was _Morthal_ without a doubt. The familiar winding road was visible from this distance, the worn crossing signs labelling the paths you could take.

Which meant a dragon had just appeared outside of Morthal.

 _Oh._

 **"What are we gonna do?"** Wonders nagged repeatedly, rubbing his eyes in disbelief and headache. It was painful to even _comprehend_ what he was looking at. **"Redguard? What are we gonna _do_?"**

His teeth were chattering, even though he felt hot from the strain of travel. It was faint, but he could hear it. Through his rising anxiety the warrior weighed their painfully limited options. The creature was making its way towards _Morthal_ , which while being one of the quieter cities in Skyrim still had hundreds of people within – and a ghost of a town guard, only in the smallest of double digits.

There were only two ways that this scenario could go. The dragon was either going to find and kill them before destroying the entire city, or if it felt adventurous it might do that the other way around. Either way, this wasn't looking like a _particularly_ good day for anyone involved.

He suddenly said " **We have to fight it."** without realising, his mind in a quandary. Stradlater blinked with uncertainty, doubting himself just as much as the Argonian did. He turned to him, desperate for some sign of approval. **"… Right?"**

All he got was a bewildered hiss. **" _Fight it_?"**

 **"Yeah…?"** he responded, squeezing his visor still to stop its incessant creaking. **"Yeah, that's it."** he said with confidence he didn't feel. Something was starting to click into place; a bit of martial prowess from an ex-military man. He'd dealt with plenty of foes in the past. Wasn't the idiom that the bigger they were the harder they fell? **"We fight it. We… We stop it before it makes it to the city."**

 _He was practically thinking aloud._

Wonders pulled a face best explained as " _completely and totally tired of your utter nonsense_ " **. "Are you still shagged out from the climb, Redguard? Is there not enough air getting to your brain?"**

It was at that point that Stradlater's composure finally came to him, that of a veteran warrior when the impending battle loomed. He had no clue what he was spouting to be honest, but he was afraid and Wonders was too. There was no shame in fear, and confidence – even fake – could bolster your courage and steady your nerves.

 **"When the sun rises something will be dead, Wonders."** he rose to a crouch, feeling for his hilt and finding strength alongside it. **"It's up to us to make sure that it's the dragon that buys it."** he was on his feet now, and snapped down his visor with a badass clack of metal. Bringing his shield to bear on an arm seized by pins and needles, his masked face turned roughly in the Argonian's direction. **"… So come on!"**

 _That's how he ended his inspirational speech._

 _It was a lame ending, but it could've been worse._

And with that he began to walk, stepping over the bump of the ditch and marching steadily onwards with weapon drawn. Wonders remained prone in the dirt, torn over what to do as his partner brandished his well-honed blade.

He could easily abandon the fool right there and then and make a break for it through the trees, but he just knew that if he tried something like that he'd somehow bring so much attention to himself that the dragon would catch wind of him and swoop in to kill him first before shifting to the Redguard; classic irony and karmic justice, through and through.

Cursing at the gods of several religions besides his own, the mage's blood ran even icier than usual as he pulled himself over the ridge with an awkward amount of effort.

 _They'd better give him gold in the afterlife._

 _Or at least a bottle of wine._

Stradlater kept moving on, his upper body locked in the same position as he focused on the target before him. The dragon was yet to notice him, and he walked as if wading through waist high waters. His neck stiff he glanced back ever so slightly, spotting Wonders reluctantly moving ten or twenty paces behind. **"Keep me covered, Argonian"** he spoke more savagely than he intended, but then adrenaline often does that to a man. **"Just like _Orotheim_."** he advised, **"Just like _Orotheim_."**

 _Just like Orotheim_.

Repeating it like a mad mantra, he comforted his numb nerves. _Orotheim_ had been where their bounty was, where Stradlater had taken the front while Wonders hung back – living artillery to his front line. Against men and mer the fear always became a heightened calm when battle washed over you, it was a peculiar and out of body experience that many a warrior sought and many a skald romanticised in song.

In truth there was little to it really. Your body merely became thoughtless and instinctual, turning to the bestial powers that all held deep within their hearts. Battle had been the soul of the Redguard in days of old; it was what made them who they were.

The dragon had noticed them. The problem of scale often confused and befuddled onlookers, for the dragon was still a fair distance from him. It was just _that_ big. It could probably swallow him in one simple gulp and use his scimitar to pick at his teeth. It made a grim roar as if insulted by his audacity, a statement of intent that sent the desert wanderer's heart ricocheting within his ribcage.

With that it began to claw its way forward, its body assuming the posture of a feline on the hunt.

Stradlater continued to walk, daunted but not showing it in the slightest. It's not like there was any way out now, was there? Left foot then right, left foot then right. What in the Pantheon's name was he doing here, in the middle of a foreign land facing off a mythical being? What would his gaffer back in Hammerfell think?

He shoved it all down to the back of his skull, willing himself to do what must be done. And with that, and without the dragon's consent, he began to jog.

Then it became a run.

Then a sprint, which sprung into a one-man charge.

As he threw himself into the battle that would change the lives of all involved, there was little going through his mind. He couldn't feel the fierce winds or the damp soil he trod on, nor could he see the terrifying grin of the towering wyvern. All he could feel was the tremble of his arm, and the ringing of his pulse. That was the rhythm he focused on, gradually rising from a dull hum to a vicious tempo.

There were no war horns or battle drums in Hammerfell.

 _A man's heart was his own._

Sword raised above his head like a barbarian's cudgel and his shield to his front ready to deflect attacks, the earth shook with his pumping feet. The dragon, as if amused by this, watched the miniscule mortal for a few precious moments before swinging a talon at him – the weakest part of its arsenal, yet easily capable of slicing through flesh like warm butter on a summer's day.

Stradlater threw his body down in a well timed dodge, the deadly claws whooshing harmlessly above his head. Rising with vengeance his brought up his scimitar in an upwards slash, the razor's edge connecting with the underside of the dragon's jaw.

Unintentionally he'd landed his first strike on one of the most vulnerable regions of a dragon's body – one of few chinks in its impenetrable mail of scales. It reared back less in pain and more in alarm, perhaps realising that it had underestimated the Redguard before it. He backpedalled two steps, blade still poised to do damage.

 _He'd made it mad._

Moving like a lion tamer on a gimmicky crew of misfits and entertainers, Stradlater swung his weapon left and right roughly towards the dragon's throat like a whip. He'd intended this to dissuade it from advancing further, but it had the exact opposite effect.

It lurched forward with speed that betrayed its lumbering size, its jagged maw aiming to crush his skull between its teeth. He in turn raised his shield, bashing the wyvern over the side of its head with the boss of the large hunk of metal. There was no way he'd be able to take an attack from such a beast head on – dodging and deflection would be the answer to this foe.

His prey reeling, Stradlater cuffed it over the side of the head with his sword once again. Repelled a second time the dragon lifted its head with a screech, the Redguard stepping forward with restless feet and a body bouncing with adrenaline.

Playtime was over, or so the dragon felt. Rearing back on its hind feet and standing erect at full height it flapped its ragged wings, sending a gust of brutal air through the clearing. Even clad in heavy armour the Redguard couldn't maintain his footing, the whirlwind sending him flat on his back. It threw itself forward, scrunching the earth between its talons as it made for its helpless quarry, lunging straight for the jugular.

What it _didn't_ expect was a great ball of fire to smash against its chest and send him reeling, but to be honest you could sympathise with that mistake couldn't you? Silent-He-Wonders stood with smoking hands on the ridge to provide cover for his companions, his fingers wiggling as if in greeting.

Its pride more wounded than its body, the dragon's attention turned to the Argonian. Wonders snarled something in his peculiar language, clenching his fists before shaking up the formula and dashing a volley of ice bolts towards the hulking behemoth. He hoped that a billion sharp things laced in magic could pierce its thick hide all at once. On reflection he was pretty sure that back in the day his school books had often said something about dragon scale being impenetrable, but that wasn't the sort of information that was gonna help his already lacking morale now was it?

A rough drumming sound caught the legendary beast's ears, the armoured Redguard pummelling his shield with the haft of his cutlass. He was trying to keep its eyes fixed on him through a taunt; an invitation that it'd have to get through him first before it could take on the magician alone. Their fight wasn't over yet.

The dragon happily obliged, rearing back in all its majesty once again. Stradlater kept his shield up, eying the creature suspiciously. It almost looked like it was _choking_ on something, a red glow building up in its gullet and rising upwards through its chest. It was at this moment that the extraordinary being spoke in its native tongue, gracing its foe with the opportunity to witness an ancient language dead to the waking world.

" _Yol toor shul_."

 _Fire, Inferno, Sun._

Within an instant the warrior brought his shield to bear once again, smashing the dragon's vulnerable face to the side as a beautiful cascade of flames erupted from its maw. Stradlater grimaced with effort, feeling the searing heat inches away from him as the flames set the treeline alight like candles across a festive street.

Silent-He-Wonders was no naturalist in spite of his heritage, but the fires would quickly spread and burn the forest to ashes and dust if this kept up. At this rate there wasn't going to _be_ a _Hjaalmarch_ left for him to get his hard earned coin from, and as self elected Master of Currency within this duo he wasn't going to let some massive lizard wannabe ruin good business.

Reaching back into his trusty satchel he clutched onto a phial filled with a stagnant looking concoction with a thick layer of speckled skin on its top. Popping the cork with his thumb and bracing his tastebuds for a bollocking, he down the lot before tossing the flacon to the ground for local birds to build their nests from in the future.

Empowered for the moment by his homebrewed fortification potion – a drink that somehow managed to be _crunchy_ – he raised his hands to the heavens as if calling down their wrath, and began to weave a great bolt of lightning with his lithe fingers.

Alas, summoning the heavens themselves tended to attract adverse attention. The wyvern wasn't at all discouraged by the troublesome Redguard, and as if forgetting he existed in an instant and enthralled by shiny things, it clawed itself forward in a roaring stampede. Caught completely unawares Stradlater lunged to the side to avoid being crushed by its advance, managing to roll onto his back just quick enough to catch a glimpse of his breathtaking foe taking to the skies in flight.

He struggled back to his feet, spinning his sword between his sore fingers and regaining his tried and true battle stance. He had hoped that the dragon was fleeing the field for some bizarre reason, but it danced elegantly across the sky before suddenly turning and diving back towards them.

 _It eclipsed the rising dawn with its magnificence._

 _And for a moment, Morthal was plunged into shadow._

The wyvern was diving straight for Wonders, its hind talons readied to pluck him from where he stood and bring whatever bits were left of him high up to the sky.

Stradlater sprinted for the ridge where the ignorant mage blinded by focus still lobbed bolts of electricity at the incoming beast. He lunged straight at him, throwing one-hundred kilograms of muscle and iron directly into the Argonian and sending both of them to the dirt in a painful and ungraceful heap.

The dragon swooped downwards and narrowly missed them, scooping up a mound of earth in its wake. It glided back to the skies, not satisfied with just a single swoop against those who'd dare challenge their betters.

Stradlater rose on top of the magician, the weight of his armour and the surprising tumble having daze him for the moment. Spindly and bony or not, this Argonian was painfully inconsistent. He'd have a word with him about that if they made it through this in one piece.

 **"We're not even _denting_ it." ** Wonders wheezed, taking a hand offered to him by the Redguard and wobbling to his feet.

 **"If hitting it with all you've got fails."** Stradlater said, trying to sound profound within throes of adrenaline and battle fury. **"Hit it _harder_."**

The wizard raised his brow in bewilderment, his snark managing to stick with him even this deep into the frying pan. **"That sounds like a Redguard's solution."**

Not sure whether or not that was an insult or a compliment, or anything to be honest, Stradlater looked to the skies once again. The dragon gave no reprieve, coming back for another assault.

 _"Yol toor shul!"_

 _Fire, Inferno, Sun!_

 **"Get behind me!"** Stradlater shouted, pulling his companion to the ground and huddling behind his shield for cover from the oncoming onslaught of flames. Through the deafening roar of the wyvern and the woosh of the blaze, he could swear he heard Wonders screaming in terror underneath him as they curled tightly behind what little protection his shield provided.

Eventually the torture relented, the dragon finishing its second pass of the dawn and returning to the skies. Wonders shoved Stradlater off of him, the pair wobbling to their feet on increasingly uncertain legs. The intricate design of his shield had been twisted and warped, the once circular block of steel having shrivelled and contorted under such a fierce bout of dragonfire.

He sincerely hoped that Wonders knew his spell wards.

 **"I don't know any wards."** the Argonian said almost instantaneously. Typical.

They could only hope that for some strange reason the dragon decided to relent, the furnace of its stomach too weak to produce any more flame in the immediate future. Stradlater's shoulders heaved weakly, his body torn between wanting to calm down and _needing_ to keep blood and hormones pumping.

Wonders breathed deeply, the front of his robe caked in filth from his last fall. **"Keep it off me."**

It took the Redguard a moment to realise that he was talking about the dragon. Like he had any choice in the matter, to be honest. He spun his blade between his fingers once again, the pommel jumping between his digits – it was a nervous habit of his that he never quite worked out.

Making some distance between him and his artillery support, the gods smiled as the wyvern returned from the clouds with Stradlater hot in its sights. He prepared himself for the oncoming storm.

Not that he could be prepared enough.

It swung down with its hind legs and tail braced for a staggering blow, which the Redguard narrowly dodged the brunt of and caught the flipside on the front of his crumbling shield. He was thrown to the floor by the impact, seeing sparks of lightning shooting at the dragon as it returned to the skies. Wonders was doing all he could to keep up the pressure, but the creature was in its element and danced elegantly to avoid much of the mage's efforts.

Another swoop, this time he'd picked up on a few tells. Side stepping at just the right moment he chopped horizontally, dexterously managing to clip the thin film that made the beast's unfurled wings. As the dragon came around once again, he felt that he was starting to get the hang of this.

But the next pass wasn't swoop, but rather a landing. A _hard_ landing that Stradlater, having not seen coming, was caught straight in the middle of. The dragon brought the whole of its crushing weight down to the earth, the armoured warrior being trampled directly under the foul beast's brutal hind legs in a burst of mud and soil.

There was a brief silence, save for the continuing bolts of the unaware Argonian.

Suddenly the Redguard rolled out from underneath the wyvern in a heap. Somehow he'd managed to take the impact head on, the dragon's hind foot having literally landed _directly_ on top of his head. Dazed and confused he struggled to stand, his helmet having snapped in half straight down its middle from the pressure. Now only half of it remained, which clutched to the side of his face tightly.

He hit the now exposed side of his head roughly, trying to shake off the unsteadiness that had claimed his senses and regain his composure. He didn't question the physics involved in what just happened – he already had a headache as it was.

The dragon leant down low once again, assuming that feline and predatory posture that it preferred when creeping towards suspecting prey. **_"Hi krill."_** It seemed to say, its language unintelligible to minds as primitive as the Redguard's. Its wicked visage was almost filled with a sense of pity, which quickly gave way to a twisted form of mockery. **" _Nust pah kril_."**

 _You are brave, it had said._

 _They were all brave, it had mocked._

 **"Come on."** he challenged the dragon uncreatively, having no clue if it even understood what he said. **"Come _on_." ** he repeated in a more hushed tone, intended more for himself and Wonders in the distance. His cracked lips continued to mouth this phrase, pleading to destiny itself. **" _Come on. Come on_."** his body continued to gyrate, brimming with zeal.

Stradlater was the first to strike, resorting to the wild flailing he'd repelled the beast with before. Up and down, left and right like a tamer's whip he aimed for the dragon's neck for it was the closest thing to a weak point he could think of. Amidst his display he suddenly bent his knees and leapt like a wild deer, bringing his sword down like a warhammer and clonking it over his foe's head.

All that did was leave him wide open, the wyvern proving its agility once again and catching the warrior's shield arm between its foul teeth. There was a cracking sound as its fangs – like lines of glass daggers – sunk into plate armour, the orichalcum doing all that it could to resist but failing its battle beyond doubt. Stradlater was lifted into the air by his elbow, his legs kicking frantically while the dragon gloated in its impending victory.

But a cornered fox is something you shouldn't underestimate, for the Redguard brought his scimitar to bear with a snarl of contempt and shoved its curved point directly into the wyvern's maw. He grinded the blade within a freshly opened wound, twisting and tugging and tearing at virgin flesh.

Howling in pain the dragon's jaw unhinged, freeing Stradlater from its clutches and dropping him to the ground once again. He crawled backwards in disarray, his sword remaining stuck between the legendary beast's teeth – amusingly, like a dragon-sized toothpick.

Another wave of lightning jolted across the plains, the sound of thunder following in its wake. The dragon reeled back as blue sparks bounced across its hide, the hilt of the embedded scimitar conducting much of Wonders' assault and focusing it at the bleeding gash in its gob. The dragon was overcome by rage at such insolence.

 _It was its turns to lose its composure._

Flames sprayed sporadically from its mouth as it swung from side to side in unbridled anger, painting what was left of the countryside black and orange with fire and soot. Wonders stood firm at the ridge, his posture the standard fare for a mage focused on firing arcane energies from the palm of their hands. His teeth were bared in a challenging scowl, his legs fixed as he gave his all.

The dragonfire was getting closer and closer to him, yet he was locked in place keeping up the pressure. It wouldn't be long until he was caught by the flames, and burnt to a cinder in a matter of moments.

Stradlater didn't think at this point.

But he did act.

He leapt at the dragon's maw once more, this time with a much clearer purpose ahead of him. Reaching with the length of his weapon arm he stretched as far as he could, grabbing a firm grip on the hilt of his sword as it jittered with electricity. Grimacing through the surge of lightning shooting through his nerves he let his weight do the work, managing to pull the wyvern's head down to the ground with him – or at the very least confusing it to such a degree that it couldn't help but look down.

Using the haft for leverage he pulled himself atop the dragon's neck, saddling himself atop of it and grasping at his blade with both hands. Crying out with effort he tore the blade free of its meaty sheath, blood and shards of dragon's tooth bursting out along with it in a juicy and vibrant display of colour amidst such a grey and dull morning.

Something akin to mania took over the Redguard from here on, as he frantically hacked and chopped at the back of the dragon's neck as it burned the land around them, and as thunder and lightning continued to strike. Somewhere between his throes he was trying to protect Wonders, doing all that he could to control the behemoth's flames and prevent him from setting the ridge ablaze.

Indeed, Stradlater kept slicing and swinging even as the flames began to rise under him. The dragon squealed pathetically as its scaled were cut - or rather _beaten_ \- open by the sheer brutality of the bestial warrior's unrelenting force. He kept hitting and hitting and _hitting_ even as he was engulfed by the relentless blaze, which showed him no mercy.

 _Ground Zero._

The lightning finally ceased, Wonders lowering his smoking hands in utter shock. There was a first time for everything, and this day would be marked as the day that Silent-He-Wonders was rendered absolutely speechless. His legs trembled in horror as he watched on, his companion caged in violent dragonfire.

The dragon had long stopped moving by the time Stradlater began to waver, his armour glowing a striking hot orange, and his warcry growing hoarse and pained. The dry grass made perfect tinder.

 _As did flesh._

Stradlater's movements grew more and more laboured as his pool of adrenaline finally began to wane, until at last it dwindled completely and he came to a stop. The Redguard paused for a moment, as if his body so deep in delirium was catching up on what was happening to him. It was only then that every fibre of his being went limp, his muscles shot and his brain empty, and he slumped off the dragon and landed painfully in the scorching ashes of what had once been rolling green grass.

 _And then he started to scream._

 _He was burning alive._

Wonders sprinted for the dragon's body frantically, the gruesome and bestial screeches of the smouldering Redguard dampening all of his senses. The piercing stench of burning flesh was something you never adapted to, even as a seasoned magician. He rounded the wyvern's corpse, drained of all his magicka, and found the once proud warrior.

He was convulsing and he was shrieking, the very armour that had once protected him proving itself to be a lethal cage of torment. The Argonian skidded across the dirt in horror, desperate to do _something_ to stop this. _Anything_.

Through his broken helmet a single eye was visible – wide, feral, coated in tears. All the while he continued to kick and cry, his body contorting into painful positions like an abused and half torn ragdoll. It hurt just to _look_ at him, let alone _be_ him.

 **"Hold still!"** Wonders shouted, trying to bring some authority to the chaotic situation. All he got in response was a deafening squeal, Stradlater mindlessly rolling to his side and curling his body in the ashes and filth he lay in. Fear clear in his voice, the Argonian used all the strength he could muster to try and overpower the larger man and pinned his arms to the ground. **"Hold _still_ , damn it!"** he cried, leaning against the warrior's stomach to try and stop him from doing any more harm to himself. Still his legs flopped and flailed, kicking up plumes of dust and digging holes in the earth.

Trying to ignore the chilling cries of his companion, who not one hour ago had been perfectly calm and intelligible, Wonders examined the battlefield that they had left in their wake. You wouldn't be amiss to say that it looked like _Oblivion_ itself, the sky black with thick smoke, and the trees burnt unto nothing. Stradlater's movements almost overpowered him as he continued to writhe and struggle, and the magician doubled his efforts with a strenuous grunt.

By the Hist, won't someone _help_ them?

 **"Somebody!"** Wonders cried, knowing full well that he would get no answer. His voice, once filled with sarcasm and dry wit, retreated into a defeated whisper. **" _Anybody!_ "**

At a total loss he caressed his manic partner's face, trying to pierce through the haze of panic and terror that had taken hold of him and let him know that it was all over now and that he was there to help. After so much screaming and squirming the Redguard's voice had been completely shot and it had lowered to nothing more than a pathetic and heart wrenching whimper, like he was a dying dog abandoned and alone.

 **"Just look at me."** Wonders whispered, leaning closer. Stradlater's jaw trembled erratically, his lungs heaving at a peculiar tempo as he struggled to breathe through the pain **. "Look at me, Stradlater."** he swore the man's pupil widened as he heard his name, and a misplaced hope filled the Argonian's often cynical veins. **"That's right, you're Stradlater aren't you? Half Redguard, half Imperial? You like sword fighting, yes? Stradlater?"** that single eye was beginning to drift off, the wheezing and gasping sounds he'd been making quieting down to an irritating rattle as his legs began to slow their kicking. **"You can hear me, can't you? G-Good man, good man."**

Suddenly he began to choke, his own tongue or his own spittle or maybe the ash in the air having got caught in his parched throat. Stradlater retched and shook between sputters, some impulse or reflex desperate for relief. Wonders almost felt himself doing the same, his resolve tested by the sight, stench and sound that surrounded his person. The smoke was beginning to overwhelm his lungs, ripping and snatching at their catch. His frail constitution submitted for the briefest of moments, and he turned away dry heaving in surrender.

Looking over the horizon again, his chest sore and throbbing, he begged for some sort of miracle to come.

Yet nothing came.

Hissing to himself he reluctantly examined the Redguard's wounds, continuing to comfort his exposed face with the softer scales of his naturally cool palm. His plate armour had been burnt all over, and from what little evidence he had on hand it was clear that only one thing could have happened. He shook his head, having trouble imagining it.

Stradlater had been cooked within his own armour plate, the iron shell that he wore having welded directly to his skin in the process. There would probably be little that a trained cleric could do to get him out of his metal coffin without damaging him for life, let alone someone with practically zero experience with restorative magick and next to no magicka left in him.

But he had no choice.

 **"L-Look at me."** he repeated, gently placing his hand over the Redguard's mouth. He could feel the spittle and drool in an instant, Stradlater's body beginning to seize up and contort again in manic alarm. It was a depressing sight to see such a proud man whimpering and moaning like a feral child, both his body and mind broken by a level of anguish that went beyond man's threshold.

Wonders readied his fingers with a faint white glow, a healing power that defied nature coursing through his very being. He was a magician, and he was an Argonian – his mere being was a gift upon Tamriel, and he would save this man with the mystical powers that he commanded. With his power came hope. Hope, he thought to himself. _Hope_.

He got to work.

 _It was terrible_

 _He started screaming again_

Squirming in abject agony, Stradlater's cries were barely muffled by the flat of the Argonian's palm. Wonders traced his hands across the blackened plate, trying to do _anything_ that would free the Redguard's flesh from the armour's grip. He winced, stung by pain as the man under him bit into his hand and drew copper blood. **"Y-You're doing _great_."** he stammered, speaking to himself as much as he spoke to his patient. In response the bite intensified, his convulsions growing more violent as the magician struggled to maintain his balance amidst his colleague's throes. The Argonian could hear a ringing in his ear – he would never forget the _screams_ , as long as he lived. **"You're doing _fine_ , Stradlater! _Fine_!"** he lied.

Stradlater himself felt rather calm about this situation. His body wrestled and jerked in complete and total agony, yet his psyche seemed generally unaffected. It was almost akin to an out of body experience, his conscious mind surrendering control and reflecting upon the shell of a man that was left squealing on the floor amidst filth and muck.

He thought he'd see his life flash before him at this moment, or perhaps the faces of those he loved and cared for; something to comfort him.

But there was none of that.

Nothing but searing pain and blinding misery, his own screams deafening.

Soon enough he began to feel something in his chest. It was confusing at first, but he noticed it again and again – a _dull_ pain, surging through his upper body in pulses. It took him a few moments to realise what was going on, the faint form of Silent-He-Wonders leaning over him and mouthing something before he shook him roughly. The Argonian mouthed something else, squeezing his shoulders. He couldn't quite make it out.

Was he calling for someone?

This pain was getting unbearable, and his vision continued to blur and darken.

Was he having a heart attack?

But then he saw something in the darkness, small and indefinite. It stood out through the haze, and even through the aching in his chest. He could recognise it, and he was glad.

Because at the very least there was _something_ at the end.

He stopped breathing at that point.

X

 **(A/N):** _The first of the two whammy chapters are done, and honestly? I knew it wouldn't work out in the end._

 _The final scene was meant to be one of those larger than life "Jesus Christ the humanity!" moments which is hyper realistic and really unsettling, and I was already confident that I wouldn't be able to do my imagination justice when it came to crunch time. Oh well :P_

 _Where can we go from here? How in god's name could someone survive such an ordeal, yet alone walk out of it with their mind intact? Maybe we'll find out in the next chapter? It's not like I know… Honest!_


	3. The Brink

**(A/N):** The battle is only half the story, isn't it?

In the last chapter, after a bit of exposition that didn't really go anywhere we saw the fateful fight that sits at the centre of the backstories of Stradlater and Silent-He-Wonders: A big badass battle against a dragon! Said battle ended with the former of the pair being burnt to a crisp, and finding himself on death's door from the sheer pain!

How on Tamriel can someone recover from that? And how rocky of a process would it be to cope with such a traumatic and live changing occurrence? I doubt it'll be as easy as in the films…

 **WARNING:** Spelling errors, mildly inappropriate language, bad dialogue, a story set entirely in flashback form, me trying to write a complex psychological relationship despite having the brain capacity of one third of a pea pod, rusty writing, some unintentional homoerotic connotations and an attempt at conveying an angsty and depressing phase of character development without coming across like a fourteen year old.

 **Chapter Three: The Brink**

It can be quite jarring to be woken up by a voice, moreso if it's one you've never heard before. There'd been an endless veil of black over his eyes and ears, his senses on complete lockdown as they basked in the cold tranquillity of nothingness. He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been drifting through the void, but for some reason he was reluctant to pull away.

The voice, if you could even call it that, wasn't saying anything particularly legible. It was murmuring and whimpering, its throat dry and its tongue feebly trying to wet its cracked lips. The noise was getting increasingly aggravating, but it was _everywhere_. It was in the blackness, and in his _mind_.

 _He wanted to sleep_.

" **No?"** it questioned, or at the very least it sounded like that. The mewling rose in strength and desperation, like a panicked man sinking in quicksand and screaming for relief. **"What did…"** the voice definitely said, the words becoming increasingly defined. It was subtle, but the veil almost seemed to lighten its hold.

A second voice suddenly introduced itself, not from inside the void but from beyond. It cursed in a peculiar language beyond his understanding, before letting loose a relieved sigh. **"A-About time."** it said accusingly, moving closer. **"I imagined you'd be the snoring type."**

From grey to white the veil was suddenly foisted from him, his eyes and ears released from their bindings without so much as a warning. He was overwhelmed by the sudden burst of colours, his pupils dilating in confusion.

" **Where… When was…"** that voice still sat in his mind, deafening his thoughts. It was dark and gravelly, coarse and devoid of hope. The voice that wasn't his asked **"Where am I…?"**

" **Somewhere** _ **safe**_ **."** the second voice said. He came to realise that it belonged to an Argonian clad in the robes of a magician, who crooned over him like a doting parent. **"Just… Stay where you are, Stradlater. It'll all make sense soon, I promise."**

His name was Stradlater.

 _And that alien voice was his._

The Redguard lay flat on his back, his arms and legs weightless and refusing to obey his commands. He felt trapped in his body – somehow more trapped than in the blackness he'd been ripped away from. He took in a lung full of air, tasting a mix of medicinal herb and open flames. There must have been a torch affixed to a nearby wall, illuminating the way.

Before he could gauge where he was, the mage decided to actually answer his initial question. **"You're in one of those Nord temples, the ones with healers and them lot? This one's called the Temple of** _ **Kinawrath**_ **or something."** he explained, resting his hands against the side of the dais the Redguard rest upon. **"This is** _ **Morthal**_ **. We were coming this way, yes?"**

Stradlater continued to stare upwards, the rafters of the temple hanging low. It was beginning to come back to him now, like blood rapidly racing back into a numb limb. He and Silent-He-Wonders, which was the name of the Argonian at his bedside, had been returning with a bounty to the capital of the _Hjaalmarch_.

But something had gone wrong.

Not just something, _everything_ was wrong. **"What happened."** he growled rather than asked, his throat full of bile or phlegm or something of the sort. Try as he might he couldn't clear it, his weak coughs being met by stabbing pains throughout his body.

After a little while Wonders sat back in his seat, the pine legs scraping across the floor obnoxiously much to the chagrin of other patrons to the temple. He held his hands together on his lap, rolling his tongue. He was thinking about how he'd deliver his response.

 _He was reluctant._

 _He was hiding something_.

" **I… I won't dance around the issue, Redguard."** the Argonian announced more to himself than the prostrate man, **"I'll be blunt with you. It doesn't need sugar coating."** he declared. There was a pause as his chair whined once more, the magician rising to his feet and leaning over the warrior a second time. **"We fought a dragon, or wyvern, or whatever you call them."**

He could remember that now. It had been a long and clumsy battle, for he had been trained in fighting sword on sword rather than sword on mythological fire breathing lizard beast. Unfortunately the two proved to not be interchangeable, something which he'd learned the hard way. The void clung to the corners of his vision, his mind still hazy and confused.

" **You had a heart attack, Stradlater. At least that's what they told me."** Wonders huffed, his orange or maybe red eyes scanning over the Redguard's body with something akin to pity. The Redguard replied with a phlegmy sputter, almost cold and emotionless in his reaction. A wad of spittle sat on his lower lip.

Wonders sighed, **"You were… You got…"** he struggled to find the correct way to phrase it, and settled on **"You were set on fire, Stradlater. From head to toe."** his hairless brow furrowed. **"The pain must've been so great that your… Y-Your body couldn't take it all at once.** _ **Sensory overload**_ **, they said that a few times. That's the phrase for it I think."**

 _Fire._

Just the word on its own was enough to conjure memories of battle. He'd clambered atop the beast's lumbering neck almost on a whim as it swung back and forth amidst throes of pain, its body filled to the brim with arcane lightning. He'd hacked and he'd slashed with his curved sword like a butcher at a carcass, bathing himself in flame and thunder as he went. A shudder of realisation hit his spine, his senses returning.

 _There were no torches in this room._

 _Yet he could still smell the burning._

" **You were wearing armour, weren't you?"** Wonders reminded him, dancing around the very issue he'd promised that he wouldn't dance around. " **Big plate, fancy visor, boots and…"** his green hand gestured over his snout once or twice, crudely indicating a visor. **"… O-Orichalcum wasn't it?"** he continued to delay **. "Well… The dragonfire superheated it, made it glow orange and…"** he visibly winced, pained by merely _imagining_ it. **"… Your armour was welded to your skin. Directly."**

That set off the trembling jaw, realisation racing throughout his body as reality began to kick in. The weight of his breaths continued to rise as he tried to crane his neck down towards his wounded body. He had to see. He _needed_ to see.

Wonders swallowed quietly, trying to reassure himself that this was the right way to do it. " **They got you out of it in the end, but…"** he shook his head grimly, staring into the Redguard's eyes hopelessly.

The Argonian crooned a bit closer, reaching out towards Stradlater's face. Instinctively he reared back ever so slightly, yet as the magician's scaled palm hovered over his left eye it disappeared from view. **"They didn't salvage much."** Wonders murmured. The Redguard couldn't see a thing, his depth perception seemingly gone. **"… T-They couldn't save your eye."**

With a grand effort Stradlater finally managed to sit himself up on his elbows, frantically looking at his ruined body with some fool's hope that none of what had been said was true. Wonders made no effort to stop him, pulling back to give him some room. **"No."** his hoarse voice slurred, denial forcing that single word down his throat again and again. **"No, n-nuh…** _ **No**_ **!"**

The entirety of his body had been claimed by the dragon's flames, scarred and torn asunder. A once pristine set of skin had been blackened and charred with imperfection and corruption, rugged clumps of flesh covering it in layers of almost cancerous looking bumps. The muscle and sinew of his arms and legs - once large and powerful - were worn and withered like fat in a frying pan, refusing to obey his commands and encumbered by a newfound weight.

 _Where was the man he once was?_

 _What abomination had he become?_

He keeled over to lean on one side, his hands desperately patting at his face as if searching for lost change. He felt the features that he knew and recognised on his right side, covered in a film of dank sweat but there nonetheless. Stradlater moved on the right, foreign grooves and lines confirming the worse. Lastly he felt for his eye, feeling burnt skin from his crusty brow yet seeing nothing. His eye was still there, yet for some forsaken reason he couldn't _see_ – it had turned white, milky and blind. He was a complete and total wreck.

 _He began to panic._

Rising bolt upright the Redguard tried to swing himself to his feet, Silent-He-Wonders stumbling back in surprise and sending his stool backwards onto the floor with a crash. Suddenly the temple was filled with commotion, the priestesses and worshippers who had been minding their own business turning towards the pair in alarm.

" **Stradlater!"** Wonders hissed, raising a pair of placating hands and feebly trying to diffuse the situation without actually touching him. **"Calm down, damn it! Before you-"**

With almost comedic timing the wounded warrior overpowered his voice with a howl of pain, his scabby body screaming at him in protest at this sudden movement. His limbs and what was left of his muscle refusing to go any further, he collapsed in a crumpled heap back onto his bed gasping for air.

Still he continued to flail in terror and disbelief, as if his paralysed body thought it could escape from this place and somehow it would all be better. His bedding, black with soot and dead skin, screwed up under his throes as his feet tried to find some sort of purchase. Wonders glanced back at the worried temple goers, leaning over the bed to try and hold the Redguard down – a difficult feat, for even in this condition he was a large man fuelled by fear and adrenaline.

Eventually a pair of priestesses in their fancy robes emerged from who knows where, joining the Argonian's effort and awkwardly proving themselves to be much more adept at this sort of work. The taller of the two urged Wonders to back off, not wanting any more complications in this already frantic situation.

Stradlater's wounds had been – poorly – salved by the women that occupied this cloister after days of bone numbing and back breaking effort, and for all their efforts to be thrown away after they'd finally stabilised him would be disastrous. Still he struggled, like a little boy desperate to avoid his bath time.

Soon the Redguard began to calm, either coming to his senses or being overwhelmed by fatigue. His breathing remained rugged and dog like, his single eye wide and darting to and fro as if compensating for the one that he had lost. Amidst the two priestesses who uniformly tended to him, Stradlater's eye caught Wonders'.

For a few moment they stared at one-another, as if the rest of Tamriel had fallen silent. Yet soon what had been a meeting of eyes turned into a vicious glare, as Stradlater's expression contorted with hate and despair. His voice croaked with vile venom, aimed directly at his companion.

" **You should have let me** _ **die**_ **."**

For some reason that chilling statement hit him hard. Silent-He-Wonders had never really seen himself as the sort to take words to heart, but he'd done his part to pull the Redguard out from the brink. He didn't understand what was wrong – the man had lived despite the hand he'd been played, and that was what mattered wasn't it?

He took a moment to reflect on this, stood alone at the far end of the temple. Stradlater was a soldier who had been raised from birth to wield a blade in battle. He was expected to live, and conversely die by the blade from the beginning of his life to the end. But that had been taken from him, hadn't it?

His bones and body were as broken as his heart. In no world would the Redguard be able to return to his former glory as a swordsman; it would be a miracle if he could even bear the weight of a suit of armour on his shoulders if he got through the next few months. Wonders realised then and there that his companion's very livelihood had just been taken away from him, for it seemed he would never battle again.

Stradlater was alive, true.

But could he truly _live_ now?

Wonders watched on from the distance. The bedridden swordsman's state was nothing short of humiliating, his muscles strained and his brow glazed with sweat just from trying to move an inch. It didn't help that he was being held down effortlessly by a pair of Nordic priestesses – an old one with a rickety gait and the making of a furry upper lip, and a younger girl so thin that a soft breeze would probably send her drifting daintily through a window like a wave of dandelion seeds.

Once their patient was for the most part restrained, the older of the two priestesses pulled away and limped towards the Argonian. Opening her arms wide he feared for the briefest of moments that she was bringing him in for an embrace of some sort, only for her to nudge him towards the temple's large double door. **"Don't touch me."** he muttered as she ushered him to leave, patting down the front of his robes **"I don't know where you've** _ **been**_ **."**

Stepping outside into the bitter chill of _Morthal_ , he continued to dust himself off. The priestess hung by the door, staring expectantly at him without actually saying what it was she wanted. Hissing to himself irritably, he pointed at her chest and said two alliterative words.

" _ **Help**_ _ **him**_ **."**

With that sorted out he left the premises, sitting himself down in the rearmost corner of the _Moorside_ and sipping at some of the local brew for the night as he often did. He was too caught up in thought to even complain about the watered down ale as he often did to avoid paying up, and ended up spending a fair bit of coin that day.

 _Capitalism One, Black Marsh Seventy-Two._

He was made to keep his distance from Stradlater by the old priestess with the gammy leg and hairy lip for the next few days, being forced to hang around the porch and see him from a distance like an expectant father. The Redguard had stopped talking by the first day, and by the third he'd ceased resisting entirely – as if he'd completely given up and resigned himself to his fate. It was either the fifth or the sixth day that the younger of the pair of priestesses approached him by the eaves, seemingly secretively.

At first she tried to speak to him casually, but that was a tall order when you're talking to a complete stranger and have spent most of your life on your knees either reading holy texts or performing certain sacrileges. It was nothing of particular interest; how's the weather? Been here long? Tried the market?

The topic eventually came to Stradlater, as it was destined to.

He was refusing to eat, or so she said. The Redguard merely lay there, his expression blank and empty and his world at a standstill. They were becoming desperate, and she had taken the initiative and gone against her superior's advice by asking the Argonian to help. Surely an acquaintance would have better luck getting through to him? Or so that is what she said.

 _He agreed faster than he thought he would._

She gestured towards the motionless man unnecessarily, the sight and the smell being more than enough to lead him the right way. It took twenty-one arduous steps across the cracked tiles of the temple to reach him, each slower than the last. Maybe it was a tad bit odd to count your footfalls, but to be honest it gave the magician something else to think about.

This was a place where people came to die. Houses for the dead and dying had always given him the jitters, probably even back when he was a boy – not that he remembered much of that these days. Like a school teacher in the eyes of their pupils as far as he was concerned he had always been an adult.

 _Or at least some close approximation._

Stradlater was right in front of him, flat on his back and staring at the poorly maintained thatch that lined the ceiling for insulation. He didn't think that the Redguard could look any worse at this point, but lo and behold he'd proved him wrong.

The best word to describe what he was seeing was ' _gaunt'_. A once calm and wholesome face had become haggard and weak, his skin – or whatever you'd call it now – clinging onto the features of his skull in a way that would make even a draugr wince. While freshly clothed in a beige tabard adorned with some sort of holy symbol, the lines and grooves of his ribs and collar were clear for all to see. Even his arms seemed peculiar, almost alien in their appearance. Once large and bulky they seemed to have deflated like a pin pricked balloon, sagging flesh hanging from under his twiggy biceps.

Wonders' stool from the week before was back upright by the side of the dais, one of its four legs crudely nailed back on by someone who clearly didn't understand which end of the hammer was which. He pulled the chair across the floor with a loud squeak as he frequently did, not at all concerned with the shuddering of the temple's occupants.

Sitting with a worrying creak, Wonders exhaled in a way you wouldn't want your mother to exhale after she'd caught you binging. He could smell ash, minty herbs, and the distinct stench of rotten meat. It bothered him that it _all_ came from the silent Redguard before him.

He was awful at this sort of thing, and the awkward silence that surrounded them confirmed this fact. **"Look at it this way, Redguard."** he eventually said, his hands clenched together as if in worship. **"You survived. I don't think anyone on the whole of** _ **Tamriel**_ **today could say the same."**

 _Barring the fact that dragons didn't actually exist until recently._

 _Small details._

Stradlater remained unresponsive, occasionally blinking his one eye but otherwise motionless **. "I would be proud. I would be** _ **smug**_ **, smugger than usual in fact."** Wonders leant forward in a way that was meant to be jovial, but looked more like he'd dropped something and was fumbling to find it. **"Don't the women around here love the whole scarred warrior look? You'd be a lethal weapon."** he reared back, arms spread. **"Think of all the free booze you could get out of this. '** _ **Stradlater the**_ _ **Dragonslayer'**_ **…"** after a moment he wryly added **"I'll say it was all you. You're welcome."**

He could've sworn that the Redguard rolled his eye in disdain to that comment. Regardless of that, he turned his head away from the Argonian as if trying to ignore the bollocks he was spouting. That was a sign that his words were being heard at least, which was enough. Wonders shrugged his shoulders, **"So you've been injured, Redguard."** he dared, **"So what?"**

" **So** _ **what**_ **."** Stradlater suddenly spoke out loud, his voice so bitter and grey that the dais practically rumbled. **"So** _ **what**_ **?"** he repeated with poorly contained hatred, his patience ripped in half like a damp piece of parchment. **"I'm a swordsman,** _ **lizard**_ **.** _ **Your**_ **life hasn't been taken from you."** he snarled angrily, **"So don't you bloody** _ **dare**_ **talk to me like that."** he turned back to face him, his upper lip twitching with rage. **"I'm trapped in a bed by old women, being spoon fed watery porridge like a damned invalid, and pissing in** _ **bottles**_ **."**

Wonders raised his chin in acceptance, bracing for the storm that he'd unwittingly unleashed.

" _ **Damn it**_ **."** the Redguard spat, **"I never asked for this, did I? I should've died there and then.** _ **Anything**_ **would be better than… Than** _ **this**_ **."** his broken body contorted with effort as he feebly tried to prop himself up, barely managing to move an inch. **"It takes every fibre of my being just to raise my arm."** said arm unsteadily rose from the bedding, the wounded warrior grunting and straining with visible effort as he pointed at the mage. It was shaky and blotchy, with hues of black and red dominating its flesh. **"So don't preach to me like you know me, you piece of** _ **filth**_ **. Get out of my sight."**

The Argonian made the juvenile mistake of muttering **"It was your idea to get involved."** under his breath. He had said it quietly, but not quietly enough for a man primed to rant about his problems for as long as he could.

" **What did you just say?"** Stradlater hissed, set to boil.

The magician spoke up, surging with defiance. **"It was** _ **your**_ **idea to get involved, Redguard."** he hissed in return, having the reptilian tongue to pull it off. His chair whined, as did he. **"You were the one who decided to play the hero, weren't you? And it went wrong, yes? Well woopy bloody** _ **doo**_ **."**

" **What did you** _ **expect**_ **me to do?"** the warrior retorted, as if his condition had been completely forgotten. **"Run off, tail between my legs? Li-"**

" _ **I don't know**_ **."** Wonders interrupted decisively, rising from his seat without even realising it. " **And I'm not going to say there was a better choice."** he leant forward, undaunted by his companion's words " **But what's done is done, Redguard. We did what we did, and you're now like this."** he muttered quietly, **"** _ **Live with it**_ **."**

" **It's easy for you-"**

" **You're a Redguard, you** _ **bastard**_ **!"** Wonders suddenly exclaimed, pointing this out as if it were the solution to all of his problems. **"Where's that pride of yours gone?"** he challenged the bladesman, who had gone on and on about his skill and life as a warrior. Why didn't he prove it? **"You're yelling at me right now, aren't you? And you know why?"**

" **Enlighten me."** Stradlater dared, his brow furrowed in derision.

" **Because the fire inside you burnt** _ **brighter**_ **than the fire around you."** he announced, working it all out. He extended a finger, shaking it at the Redguard knowingly. **"You're talking like this, but I** _ **know**_ **you're still fighting."**

Stradlater looked at him with his brow knitted, as if trying to process what in _Oblivion_ the strange reptilian man thing before him was getting at. To be fair it was possibly one of the cringiest things he'd ever said to someone in public, outside that time he wrote a collection of poems to that one girl in college.

But regardless, he'd meant what he'd said. Behind this thick veil of pain and despair Stradlater was trying to hang on and find something to cling to. He wasn't out for the count yet in spite of all of this – he just needed someone to give him a boost over the wall.

The burned man's gaze faltered, falling to the magician's hands. One was wrapped in dangerously worn bandages, sullied a faint brown by blood and in desperate need of changing. Wonders followed his stare, and raised his hand matter-of-factly. **"You've got a vicious bite you know, Redguard."** he snickered dryly. Amidst the warrior's throes of agony on ground zero he'd bitten it so hard that the Argonian lost all feeling in his palm and fingers. He'd kept it out of sight from the priestesses up to this point – he wasn't eager for some weird Nordic mumbo jumbo to cure his ailments. **"I was with you for three** _ **terrible**_ **hours out there. Every second was… It was touch and go."**

Turning his head to look away, Stradlater remained silent. Wonders awkwardly tugged at the poorly made knot of his bandage, trying to fasten it tightly. They always talked about pressure in the novels, so he assumed that was what you were supposed to do. Keep up the pressure, and it'll all get better in time. **"I'm sorry."** a hoarse voice suddenly mumbled, and it took a moment to remember who it belonged to. **"I… I didn't mean what I said."**

To be fair there was an entire _list_ of things he didn't mean over the past few minutes, but Wonders knew exactly what he was referring to. He was talking about the comment he made a few days earlier, _'You should have let me die.'_

He nodded once, and then twice after a brief delay. This conversation was making him incredibly uncomfortable. He wasn't quite used to speaking to other people outside of business, and all this touchy-feely stuff was getting a tad too personal for his tastes. **"Yes, yes…"** he said in a vague manner, **"Still… You were justified, Redguard. Strange how your entire life can be thrown upside-down in an instant, isn't it?"**

The Redguard turned back to face him, his single eye still adjusting to its lack of depth perception and staring right through him. In spite of this there was something in his expression that even someone as socially inept as Silent-He-Wonders could pick up. It was subtle, but there.

He was _glad._

" **You're… You're a good man, Silent-He-Wonders."** he said, his voice almost losing its gravel for that brief moment.

The magician pulled a goofy face, not quite sure how to react to something like that. Was he coming on to him? Was he expected to hug or kiss him now or something? His auntie had always told him that mer and men were into that sort of thing, and he couldn't help but wonder if the addled old tart was actually onto something. **"D-Don't say that too loud. I have a reputation to uphold."** he murmured quietly, fidgeting in his seat. Letting the fuzziness fade, he asked an important question. **"… How much longer do you think you'll be here?"**

Stradlater's expression darkened, and that was all he needed to know. Wonders hung his head, sighing lightly. **"Still… Lucky you, surrounded by women at your beck and call."** he reckoned, crossing his legs, **"What I would give for that luxury."**

" **You haven't seen them up close."** Stradlater warned quietly, uncomfortably breathing through his mouth. **"They have hair in places I never thought possible."**

Wonders forced a snicker that likely dislodged some of the harder chunks of snot stuck in the depths of his snout. It hadn't been a funny line at all, but it was a gesture all the same and a good omen; Stradlater would recover, and despite the Argonian's brain screaming at him to bail before he got dragged in too deep for some reason his cold heart wanted to stay behind and help the Redguard.

He had always been a loner. He'd been betrayed far too many times by people he had trusted to find any comfort in hanging around other people and getting involved in their lives. But for some reason he felt like a bond had been forged by dragonfire on that fateful day. They were two misfits in a strange and hostile world. They'd protected eachother against the dragon, and it seemed it was their destiny to keep at that from this point forwards.

Stradlater had a harsh reality to face, and no doubt had a journey torn between pain and misery before him. Wonders may have fished him out of the pits of despair, but it was up to him to keep tugging at the line and to make sure it didn't break.

" **Thank you."**

It took the Argonian a few moments to realise that _he_ had said that. His eyes darted back and forth anxiously, clearly embarrassed **"… Y-You saved me a few times out there. Thanks."**

" **Mmm."** Stradlater murmured, thinking nothing of it. His eye went on a fateful voyage as it scanned the temple, until suddenly it stopped on a table by the side of the dais. On it there was a tray, with a bowl filled to the brim atop it. Something was inside it. Something… _Gooey_.

Wonders glanced at it too, reacting in horror in an instant. **"By the** _ **Hist**_ **, what on** _ **Nirn**_ **…?"** he scooted back on his chair, fearing a contagion. **"What's that? Looks like something that crawled out of a Troll's** _ **nose**_ **."**

" **Porridge."** the Redguard revealed, much to the magician's amazement. He sneered in distaste, even his starved gut having doubts about what lay ahead. He had no choice, did he? **"You'll need a spoon."**

" **I'll need a** _ **pint**_ **to wash it down."** Wonders shuddered, leaning back and cautiously nudging the tray with his foot. **"And a quill and parchment to contact my next of kin."**

" **My condolences."** Stradlater muttered, his elbows gradually shifting him to a more suitable position. He grunted as he rested on his palms, his bony elbows shaking with the weight. **"… Go on then, get it over with before I lose my good mood."**

Wonders glared at him not with hate but with a hint of comical despair. Was he _really_ about to do this? The tray clattered like a nanny with her tea set, the warm muck heating his lap as he put it down. He snatched the crudely carved excuse for a spoon that had been left buried in the mass like some sort of ancient weapon awaiting its king, **"This never happened. Not a word."**

He took up some gloop on the clumsy spoon, weighing it reluctantly as globules with the consistency of a children's novel dribbled back down into the bowl messily. Stradlater's expression said it all, visibly retching before the spoon had even reached his tongue. **"Not a word."**

This procedure continued for several months. It was a strenuous process, often filled with heated arguments as the Redguard tussled with his debilitating depression, but every time he backed down the Argonian would grab him by the collar and pull him back up to shore with snark and dry wit. Soon he could walk again, although to glance over that would be an insult to the blood and sweat spent on achieving that feat.

Eventually the pair left the temple behind them, ready to explore Skyrim and its holds once again in hope of coin and glory, although for the most part coin. Not that they actually made much between them, being a bumbling bigot and a crippled old soldier with a shared IQ barely teasing triple digits. Regardless they kept at it, their debts to eachother keeping them together through thick and thin.

It was up to Stradlater to keep his smug and racist Argonian companion from getting himself killed by the drunks and bandits of Skyrim, and it was up to Silent-He-Wonders to maintain the uncertain balance that the Redguard had struck between the glory of his old days and the crippling angst that forever clung to him as he gradually rehabilitated himself.

And that, as they say, was that.

 _Although they never did get the money they were owed for Orotheim._

X

 _(A/N): Talk about subtle, am I right?_

 _Eh, there was no way I could really make this work in a text format. That's often been the issue with the TES series – I imagine it all in my head like a film or TV show, and it doesn't quite translate into fic form too well more often than not :P_

 _Regardless, there you have it! At long last the backstory of Stradlater and Silent-He-Wonders in its fullest! Maybe you can read back over the old fics with this new information in mind and consider stuff about it, eh? *Shameless plug*_

 _Now all that's left for this fic is the brief epilogue, which I'll eventually get around to… But I suppose the important stuff is all finished here! Seen you then, hopefully…_


End file.
